


Mistletoe

by FhimeChan



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 02:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan/pseuds/FhimeChan
Summary: The red and green bunch swang before Will’s eyes, the flashy colours adding to his dizziness. Mistletoe. Hanging from the doorframe of his house. How the hell did it get there?Mindless Christmas fluff.





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Remember the #FirstHannigramKiss, the 2017 Christmas event? I finished my piece - after 3 failed attempts - in late February. Finally it's December and I can post it!!!  
> Thank you @jiminchillin for reading it first :)

The red and green bunch swang before Will’s eyes, the flashy colours adding to his dizziness. Mistletoe. Hanging from the doorframe of his house. How the hell did it get there? 

Will glared at the leaves from his position on the floor, as he tried to sort out which were his limbs and which were Hannibal's. He pondered if he should try to get up, but the chance of stumbling and falling over Hannibal - _ again _ \- was still too high.

He croaked, “Sorry.” 

A wandering snowflakes melted on his cheek, carried by the wind. Will shivered, his thin pants doing nothing to protect him against the frozen wood of his porch.

Hannibal’s lungs expanded under his head. “My fault. I should have rang the bell before opening the door. I apologize.” 

“You couldn’t possibly know I was tripping on the other side.” Damn Buster, sneaking between his feet.

A small chuckle. “I’m glad I softened your fall.”

Hannibal’s belly was as soft as a pillow, and warm, and Will bit his tongue. He may survive the embarrassment of falling over Hannibal, probably, but he did not want to add ‘babbling’ to his daily record.

The world had stopped spinning. Will planted his feet on the floor, ready to stand, but two strong arms snaked around of his waist. His heart skipped a beat. 

“Wait.”

Hannibal helped him to sit, then rested his hands on his shoulders. Will felt the warmth of Hannibal’s breath on his nape, their legs still entwined. He blushed, picturing the scene in his mind. His back almost touched Hannibal’s chest. He was grateful Hannibal could not see his face. 

“Can we go inside now? It’s snowing.” Will felt anything but cold.

“Just a moment more. Did you hit your head?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Hannibal moved a hand to WIll’s nape, carding the finger through the curls, gently probing. 

“I’m not sure.” It was very difficult to concentrate. He hoped Hannibal would stop before Will could do something foolish, like leaning into the touch, or sighing. He hoped Hannibal had not seen the mistletoe.

“Everything seems alright. You have a hard skull.” In spite of his words, Hannibal was still massaging his scalp.

“Then we should go.”  _ Before I lean into the touch. _

“One last thing.” Hannibal caressed Will’s cheek, gently pushing. Will followed the touch and faced him. He hoped the scarlet on his face would be imputed to the bitter wind. “We shall not break a tradition.”

Will’s breath hitched when Hannibal leaned closer. Just a brush of lips, and then they were kissing. Will melted into the touch, seeking the warmth, the softness. Hannibal’s hand caressed his face, and caught on his ear.

It was over before he had time to formulate a single rational thought. 

Hannibal stood close, enough that Will could see every golden speck in his eyes. A light flush was on his cheeks, and his lips glistened. He looked smug. Will touched his lips with his hand, blinking. 

Hannibal grinned, “I suspected you would enjoy it.” 

Will rolled his eyes, then found Hannibal’s mouth again. 

Maybe mistletoe was not so bad.

* * *

They sat in front of the fireplace, trying to regain some warmth after staying for so long on the porch, when a realization hit Will.

“Hannibal… Did you by chance hang the mistletoe at my door?”

Hannibal’s smug grin was answer enough. Will glared. “Did it occur to you to hang it inside the house, where we wouldn’t freeze?”

Hannibal took his hand and kissed it, and Will blushed again. Goddammit, he needed to regain some control.

“Why do you think I didn’t?”

Will glanced at the ceiling, which was covered in red and green. The mistletoe must have hung there, silently threatening him, for days. 

He stared, speechless, not sure if he was more amused or affronted. In the end, he grunted, “Guess we just have to honor the tradition, then.”   
He gripped the lapels of Hannibal’s shirt and pushed him down against the carpet. The last thing he heard before taking hold of his mouth was Hannibal whispering, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ♥


End file.
